


whatever it takes

by LouRandom



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Post-Season 2, Romance, Viren Being Viren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouRandom/pseuds/LouRandom
Summary: The first time Viren steps through the mirror into Aaravos’ plane of existence, he tells himself that it’s going to be a one-time thing. In and out, glean whatever knowledge he can from the place and leave, ignoring whatever game the elf chooses to play.As always, things don't exactly go as planned.





	whatever it takes

**Author's Note:**

> long long overdue fill for [the first ever prompt](https://lou-random.tumblr.com/post/182976171414/hit-a-boy-up-with-some-awkward-cute-n-funny)  
> i received on tumblr from anon wanting awkward and funny Viravos interactions with Aaravos finding Viren's general idiocy and mayhaps endearing x) IF YOU'RE READING THIS ANON I'M SO SORRY AND HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS>_<  
> As per usual, special thanks to [Leaf](https://twitter.com/littleleafbun)  
> for betaing! ;3
> 
> enjoy!

The first time Viren steps through the mirror into Aaravos’ plane of existence, he tells himself that it’s going to be a one-time thing. In and out, glean whatever knowledge he can from the place and leave, ignoring whatever game the elf chooses to play.

It required another overly specific ritual he barely managed to perform properly; considering his partial detainment in his chamber after his trial and tenuous release sanctioned by the newly crowned young King, he doesn’t exactly have the same liberty as before to venture out to search for spell components. He managed it, though, diligently following Aaravos’ instructions, asking himself all the while whether this is something wise of him to do.

And yet, quite obviously, he finds himself compelled by Aaravos’ _library_ of all things. It was easier to quell his curiosity at first, when the elf spoke of the various ancient texts he had in his study. He would even read them out loud to Viren sometimes during his time in prison, providing a small measure of comfort. Viren stayed skeptical, though, as to Aaravos’ suggestion to join him beyond the threshold. _A simple spell_ , Aaravos suggested, _impermanent. Perfectly safe._

At first, Viren only scoffed.

Yet the minute the elf mentioned that his study was but one of the many book collections in his palace-like prison, that he possesses scrolls as ancient as the very first continental civilizations, that only in Viren’s presence can he start teaching him the deepest, darkest secrets of magic—Viren was sold. Well, not immediately, of course. He asked whether this particular spell requires blood.

It did. Much more than last time.

So Viren thought about it, like, he supposed, any sensible person would, mulling the matter over and over in his head, imagining the countless ways the spell could go horribly wrong.

He thought about it some more.

He thought about it after he'd agreed, as he began gathering the ingredients.

He was still questioning his actions as he performed the necessary ritual, his blood spilt and words of immense power uttered in the dark of night. He has to fall asleep for the spell to take effect, hastily bandaging his wounds and letting tiredness take him. At last, he finds himself himself standing in an all too familiar study, the space that’s never been out of his sight for long in the past few weeks.

There’s a tall, otherworldly, immensely powerful creature looking down on him—not something Viren gets to experience often, tall as he is—and the smirk is, as always, stretching Aaravos’ lips wide as those dark-rimmed golden eyes glimmer with unrestrained mischief.

“How spirited of you, Lord Viren,” Aaravos drawls, “to come visit me at your peril.”

He takes a few steps towards him, gaze intent, assessing, then lifts a hand which glows iridescent with unfamiliar magic, making Viren flinch back. A coarse mix of anger and raw terror boils inside Viren and he fumbles to trace a sigil in turn, which he knows won’t do much good against the elf and yet—

“You—stay back!”

Aaravos steps closer instead, and Viren activates the offensive spell. Aaravos easily dissolves it with a wave of his free hand.

"Please," he says with a chuckle, raising said hand to face Viren in an unthreatening gesture. The first spell he’d activated still glimmers in his right hand, but he doesn’t move to attack. Yet. "I wish only to welcome you to my humble prison."

Aaravos does use his spell on Viren, though not in the way he’d initially thought. It doesn’t even touch him, simply floats from his star-speckled hand towards Viren, envelops him in a thin translucent sheen of light and dissipates in a few seconds. The pain in Viren’s bad leg is gone in an instant, and so is the difficulty he’d had in breathing, corrupted as his veins were from magic use. He blinks in surprise, frowning as comprehension dawns on him, but the unexpected comfort is barely enough to stop him reeling from such a crude welcome.

“You know,” Viren says, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance and already starting to regret the idea, “you might consider a more conventional greeting next time?”

“When you spend a millennium imprisoned, you do tend to develop a more… creative approach to life,” Aaravos says, gaze lingering on Viren’s face. Aaravos gestures to the neat pile of books he’s prepared for Viren on his desk. “Peace? For now,” he adds, pretentious as he is.

And Viren, glaring at Aaravos for but a few more seconds, relents. He didn’t come here for this nonsense; he came here for knowledge.

*

The sheer abundance of knowledge he does find in Aaravos' place has him falling asleep for longer and longer periods of time, getting hooked on his ventures to Aaravos’ side of the mirror, on being able too freely peruse the massive collection of books the elf has stored in three separate libraries.

The books vary greatly and include texts from all nations and ages. He finds books on Primal Magic, dozens of history books from the times when the continent was undivided, ancient tomes on philosophy and the intricately creative mythologies of ages past. Viren spends hours prying over the tomes, the intoxicating vigor of learning something new and sacred making him feel truly… content for the first time in years. Almost _happy_. The downside is, Viren never feels well-rested after these sessions in Aaravos’ world, but the perpetual fatigue is a small price to pay for basking in the countless supply of books Aaravos is lucky to have in this prison of his.

“Your captors certainly were generous with these books,” Viren says with no small measure of awe as he lounges in Aaravos’ chair, engrossed in an ancient Moon Magic grimoire.

Aaravos sits next to him in a spacious armchair, hands occupied with a metal puzzle of some sort, and huffs out a humorless laugh at Viren’s words.

“They certainly weren’t if they’d intended to keep me here for the rest of eternity.”

“Oh.” Viren realizes his mistake. “Right.” He feels himself blush in mild embarrassment, biting his lower lip and chancing Viren tears his eyes from the pages to glance at Aaravos’ blank expression as the elf stares into the fire, fingers working diligently over the metal links. “There was no way for the Dragon King to send you new books to pass the time?”

“Oh, there are ways to supply me with things.” Aaravos roughly clicks one of the puzzle pieces into place, frowning as it still appears incomplete. “But definitely no desire to do so on the Dragon King’s part.” He casts a sidelong glance at Viren. “ _You_ , on the other hand, would do well to repay me with a book or two from your world.”

Viren blinks, looking up at the elf in confusion.

“Yes, you are quite imperceptive of subtle hints.” Aaravos says wryly. “Have sympathy. I am _bored_.”

“But I—this isn’t my physical form,” Viren says, shaking his head lightly. "I come here through _dreams_."

Aaravos stills. Then rolls his eyes and sighs, a light, condescending smile igniting on his lips for what seems to be the hundredth time that hour.

“Ah Viren,” Aaravos drawls, almost fondly. He completes the puzzle with a loud click, chucking the elegant hexagonal construction to land perfectly onto Viren’s notes. “You have a lot to learn.”

The voice is still enough—deep enough, strangely seductive enough—to make Viren shiver, and he dangles on the last remaining strings of his resolve once Aaravos reaches over to touch his fingers to Viren’s cheek.

Solid—a bit too solid for a mere dream—and, surprisingly much warmer than Viren’s own skin. He can’t help wondering if it’s a general elfin feature, or a peculiarity of the Startouch elves; perhaps it’s the energy radiating from starry freckles makes Aaravos skin almost burn with it.

“If you’re under the impression you are asleep right now…” A book suddenly springs from one of the higher bookshelves, landing harshly on the table. “I suggest reading chapters thirteen through sixteen.” Aaravos smiles, warm fingers brushing a stay lock of hair behind Viren’s ear, making him shiver again. Not with fear or disgust, as it, logically, should, but something else entirely. “Who knows, Viren, you might learn something new.”

With that, Aaravos slides off the desk, ever graceful, and exits the study, leaving Viren alone with his confusion and a few curious chapters on ancient Star Magic spells that allow for temporary physical movement through neighboring realms and pocket dimensions.

From that point onwards, Viren takes to sleeping in Aaravos’ prison at least for some hours each time he is there and finds that, yes, the fatigue does subside bit by bit.

It should make him afraid, being physically here. Transported through dimensions by a feat of what seems to be even more ancient, primordial magic Viren has no hope of understanding with his current scope of knowledge and skill. The uncertain nature of it all _should_ be enough to drive him away from the mirror for good; instead, Viren catches himself more and more sympathetic of Aaravos predicament. It seems far too excessive of a punishment, it seems unjust for him to be trapped here for so long, unable to do anything more than astral projection to Viren’s reality, due to the limitations of the Dragon King’s spell. It’s been two weeks, at most, and yet Viren has already grown far too used to their consistent meetings to let this go—whatever _this_ may be.

So he starts bringing Aaravos books from the royal library, everything from contemporary magical research papers to preposterously written romance novels Aaravos seems to enjoy ridiculing so much. And in those rare moments Aaravos allows himself to be utterly immersed in a new book or to jest in a completely relaxed and careless manner, Viren finds the elf almost… endearing.

*

Viren’s grip tightens on the tome he is holding, and nails almost tearing the cover as he groans in frustration. He closes it and slams it on the table, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm himself down.

His misery persists.

He's a quick reader and has finished a good part of the books in Aaravos’ libraries. Or, to be precise, the ones in languages he could actually understand; most of the _truly_ intriguing books were written in long forgotten, ancient tongues. So ancient, in fact, that sometimes Viren had trouble even discerning what part of Xadia they might have originated in—much less understanding them.

It doesn’t help that the spell which would allow him to comprehend the unfamiliar texts proves to be near impossible for him do to for the better part of the evening.

He was getting surer of his abilities as of late; gone was the initial shock after Aaravos had revealed to him his centuries-long discovery—that humans can, in fact, connect to primal sources. It took a few times for him to wrap his mind around the implication. He felt disoriented, upset even at the amount of damage he’d dealt to his body over the years—needlessly, as it turned out. And yet Aaravos was quick to calm him with a sudden light embrace, assuring Viren his years of suffering would be rewarded. Promising him mastery of incredible spells and knowledge of magic’s origin itself. Reminding Viren that his rejuvenation spells recovered his body bit by bit with every visit, making movement easier and lessening the pain in his limbs.

“It’s the past now,” Aaravos whispered, holding Viren’s trembling form. “Don’t dwell on what you were. Focus on what you _can_ be.”

And Viren does.

He feels like his teenage self all over again—amazed and excited about all the new knowledge he could gain about the sources, all the hundreds, if not thousands, of new spells he could learn from his new mentor, conveniently a ridiculously powerful creature of myth.

Thus far, though, the sole Arcanum Viren was able to grasp was that of the moon, familiar as he was with the evasive nature of reality and the insidious power of appearances. And yet, even the relatively simple Moon Magic spell, which allowed the reader to understand writings of any language, was far more intricate than Viren had expected. Alas, after Aaravos had shown it to him a total three times, asking for yet another demonstration seemed far too beneath him.

“Work, gods dammit!” Viren shouted at the book again, its incomprehensible title almost mocking him. The rune in front of him starts to glow, proceeds to be useless, then disappears into nonexistence just like before. “Ugh!”

His fist hit the table and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, wondering where Aaravos is at this time, desperately needed yet best avoided to spare Viren more embarrassment. In the end, Viren decided to take care of the problem the usual way: alone.

It’s a few hours before Aaravos finds him in the smallest library, reserved solely for spell books. The elf raises an elegant brow in bemusement as he sees Viren sitting cross-legged on the floor, disheveled and surrounded by a heap of books which could certainly bear to be treated less roughly.

“Well?”

Aaravos waits for an explanation, and gets the silent treatment instead. Chuckling, he sinks down beside Viren to wrap his arms around the mage, letting out a pleased hum of surprise when Viren doesn’t flinch. There’s something with Aaravos and _touching_ , Viren notices, and he wonders if he longs for tactile contact so much solely because of his thousand-year imprisonment or if he’s always been like this.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Aaravos prods again.

Viren mumbles something incoherent, his tone barely audible.

“What was that, Viren?” Aaravos fights to suppress a grin. “Speak up.”

Viren lets out a heavy sigh.

“I tried to find the book with the—the language-deciphering spell you showed me the other day. And the two other days before.” He pauses. Averts his eyes. Feels his cheeks grow warm. “I didn’t quite get it and tried to, well… study it on my own and—well.”

“Yes?” The derision in Aaravos’ voice is all but tangible.

“Now I can’t understand any written text,” Viren says, deflated. “At all.”

Aaravos doesn’t keep his promise.

Viren wriggles away from Aaravos’ grasp, throwing a hefty tome in his direction, which only makes Aaravos laugh harder.

“Damnable elf,” Viren grumbles, staring dejectedly at book titles which appear all jumbled.

“Silly human,” Aaravos says, laughter dissipating into intermittent chuckles. There are arms around Viren’s waist again and try as he might to keep being angry at the elf, the carefully placed head on his shoulder, the gentle nuzzling and a whispered apology make it far too easy for him to forgive all of Aaravos’ slights. “It’s a wonder you didn’t ruin your speech comprehension as well.”

“That’s possible?”

“That and worse.”

With a wave of his starry hand, Aaravos paints a familiar, if a bit altered, rune, mutters an incantation, and suddenly, Viren finds himself able to discern the book titles again.

“Thank you.” He lets out a sigh of relief, sifting through the several books he had strewn around him. He blinks in confusion as he realizes the book he’s picked up is _supposed_ to be in an unfamiliar language—one that he can understand now—and that the passage he has open is about Aaravos—and it hasn’t been misted over by black ink. He glances at Aaravos and quickly looks away, surprised by how close the elf’s face is. Stars on his cheek twinkle brightly, like the ever-present mischievous glint in his eyes. “ _Thank you_ ,” Viren repeats, hoping to the gods he isn’t blushing.

“Now, Viren,” Aaravos whispers, lips far too close to Viren’s ear. His breath tickles, sending a shiver down his spine. “Was it _that_ hard to ask?”

Viren makes it a point to always consult the archmage regarding troublesome spells in the future, even though his pride does hurt a bit from this unfamiliar sense of humility.

*

This newfound humility lasts a total of twelve days.

He tells himself, Aaravos is nowhere to be found, probably busy some research or other.

He tells himself, he’s a high mage with extensive magical knowledge, and his nonstop practice over the past few days has yielded unexpectedly satisfactory results.

He tells himself, after he’d finally mastered the complicated art cloning illusions, moon magic doesn’t really seem so difficult after all.

 _Historia viventem_ is the incantation, said to be the easiest of the advanced moon magic spells, and Viren whispers the words into the night as he stands in one of the lush gardens surrounding Aaravos’ prison. He figures it’s as good a place as any to project the scenes of his choice, spacious and uncluttered by trees and bushes, a wall of mist stretching high along its edge. He reaches back to a time and place in the distant past, centuries before Viren himself was born, invoking images of an ancient battle he has heard and read about a thousand times over—

He glimpses the first ghosts of the ghostly reenactment. More than a millennium in the past, an elfin-human army wasn’t quite as incredible a sight as it is today, and Viren sees people of all races standing in the wake of an attack—and then the blackness hits.

Viren awakens to the sound of someone’s rushed, almost desperate, muttering. He is light-headed, reacquired consciousness striving to slip away from him, and there’s bright light above Viren, emanating from a pair of eyes, framed by a frown for some reason.

He still feels light-headed as the pain sets in, and he realizes his body feels as if it’s on fire, convulsing with rhythmic white-hot flashes of fire. There’s nothing he can do about it, though he longs to move, to scream, to do _anything_ , and yet he is stuck motionless. He longs to pass out again, longs for it all to stop until—until it does.

Viren’s gaze clears enough for him to see a furious star-speckled face staring at him, eyes still glowing white from casting whatever spell.

“Uh,” Viren says, trying to will his eloquence back.

“Lord, High Mage, once Royal Advisor Viren, pray tell,” Aaravos growls, tone trembling with fury, “are you a complete _idiot_? And if so, how exactly did you survive long enough to acquire those titles anyway?”

Viren flinches as he tries and fails to sit up, leaning into Aaravos’ hold instead.

“It said it was the easiest spell, Aaravos,” he says tiredly, missing the elf’s surprised blink at Viren’s use of his name. He tries to sit again, carefully, rubbing at his eyes. He sees momentary flashes of blackness, but, thankfully, the crippling pain and numbness are all but gone. “An illusory reenactment of the past.”

“Yes. A simple spell. The power of which increases exponentially the further into the past you reach.” Aaravos tilts his head. “How many centuries back were you aiming?”

A pause.

“More than a few?” is Viren’s sheepish reply, and Aaravos’ glare turns positively murderous.

“I _swear to the stars_ I will restrict you access to the mirror if this happens again.” Viren nods, barely able to keep his eyes open. He definitely has no desire for a repeat experience. “Did I make myself clear, Viren?”

“Yes,” Viren mutters, positioning his head in the crook of Aaravos’ neck.

“You’re absolutely…” Viren feels Aaravos shake his head and let out a sigh of disappointment. “Next time, just _ask me_ , Viren.”

There again is that soft fondness as Aaravos calls him by his name, and Viren catches himself smiling at the sound. There’s a soft hand running through his hair, gentle, comforting. That and the proximity Aaravos’ body, as well as his soft soothing voice—all of it leaves Viren boneless in the arms of an entity he is supposed to fear and hate.

Strangely, he feels completely safe. And Aaravos, for the first time in years, feels truly at peace.

*

Viren discovers Aaravos truly wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know where he was. He’d lost count of how many times he visited Aaravos’ prison, and every time, if but for a few minutes, Aaravos would lead him to the observatory on the roof to stargaze. Viren had tried to pinpoint where they were by surveying the surroundings—not quite that productive when said surroundings were all clouded in mist, dissipating only when the eye reached the starlit sky. He had tried, half-heartedly, to cast spells to break the barrier, knowing full well that Aaravos must have already attempted every method Viren could think of and more.

“You can tell by the stars and visible planets that this is somewhere near or in Xadia,” Aaravos says, pointing to the visible constellations. “But they were clever. There is aberration in the stars’ position and the planets’ movement, and I have no idea how to properly correct the measurements without a precise location. Without said location,” he says with that ever-present smile of his, this time tinged with a bit of sadness, “I cannot break Thunder’s curse.”

“Why curse you?” Viren asks, tentative. “What could you possibly have done for the Dragon King himself to warrant you such a fate?”

Aaravos shrugged.

“He deemed me dangerous. Too dangerous to be kept alive—and yet,” he says with a chuckle, “I was a bit too powerful for him and his servants to kill.”

Viren has suspicions about the exact powers Aaravos possesses, what with him demonstrating mastery of all the six Arcana—as well as dark magic. And it’s obvious the elf has a special relationship with the latter. Viren finds himself far too intrigued, far too curious not to ask—

“You created dark magic, didn’t you?” His heart skips a beat as Aaravos trains him with an incredibly intense gaze. “Or first discovered it?”

“The former,” Aaravos answers instantly, his face betraying no emotion.

“Must have been a good reason for that.” Feelings of uncertainty and confusion creep into his mind—but no fear. “What with…” he trails off, tracing a simple sky sigil in the air and watching it shimmer and dim into soft breeze. “This.”

“There was a good reason. I didn’t know of… _this_ yet.” Aaravos takes a step closer, grasping the hand Viren had used for the spell. “In hindsight, I should have realized sooner that humans can form connections to the arcana. Alas, the epiphany came only after I was imprisoned.” His face is marred by a momentary scowl as he continues, “My human friends, the people I’d come to call my family, were shunned, and hurt, and killed by those who falsely thought themselves superior. Back then, I couldn’t think of a better way of vengeance. And truthfully, it both pleases and upsets me, the chaos that it caused for my homeland.”

A four-fingered hand caresses Viren’s cheek lightly, and the gesture has him trembling. In fear, in anticipation, in amazement—he’s not quite sure.

“I—I feel safe with you, regardless,” Viren says suddenly, surprising even himself. Aaravos’ hand moves lower, fingers running over the collar of Viren’s robes. “For some, hopefully rational, reason.”

“For some foolish reason, Viren,” Aaravos echoes him, a look of what can only be described as amused fascination on his face. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“You said yourself you’re not as evil as the books paint you out to be.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not a danger to you,” Aaravos says, and Viren finds himself unable to look away from the deep auburn-gold of Aaravos’ gaze. “You still do not know of my true intentions.”

“You don’t know mine,” Viren counters.

Aaravos only laughs.

“Presumptuous of you to think _you_ can outwit _me_.”

“I _did_ kill the Dragon King.”

“Yes,” Aaravos drawls. He’s much too close now—and at the same time, barely close enough. “An act of near-suicide if ever I’ve seen one. One I shall forever be grateful for.”

Their lips lock in a soft, sensual kiss that lasts for far too little. Aaravos’ lips are slightly parted as they pull away, eyes half-lidded and cheeks a slightly darker shade of blue underneath the gleaming stars. The sight compels Viren to lean up and kiss him again, and again, savoring this new, impossibly pleasant closeness. Warm hands settle on Viren’s hips, drawing him nearer, pressing him flush against Aaravos’ body.

It feels like lightning currents running through Viren’s body, heat curling in the center of his chest.

It feels heady, the sensation of dizzying pleasure from being held in Aaravos’ arms.

It feels like time stops, and Aaravos, his touch, his sighs, the swift movements of his tongue are the only real things in the world.

But, like every night, the spell inevitably ends.

Viren awakens back in his world and is forced to communicate with Aaravos solely through the bug chittering in his ear—or through a rare translucent projection of Aaravos’ form. It’s been a while since he's realized that this isn’t _nearly_ enough. That he misses and _craves_  the heat of Aaravos’ touch during his waking hours, that he _longs_  to see his face and his smiles, to watch Aaravos work, and stargaze, and talk for hours on end, to revel in his breathtaking beauty.

This time—it seems like the hundredth time that he returns from his venture to Aaravos’ dimension—Viren promises himself he will stop at nothing to find a way to get Aaravos out of his prison.

 _Whatever the danger,_ Viren thinks, _whatever it takes._

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this fic, like most of my other fics, was supposed to be a short cute drabble BUT SMTH WENT WRONG AGAIN - seems i can't just write short things about these two, i love them too much<3
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading!
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lou_Random) and [tumblr](https://lou-random.tumblr.com/)


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